Devotions
by Addster
Summary: Ordinary days at war, filled with blood and rain, turned to responsibilities no one ever foretold. A man, just a simple warrior, has now been granted three helpless souls he must guide to maturity and strength, but he still a child himself. Jir/Ame Orphan


**AN: This is something I actually did for a contest over at DeviantART. The main idea was your interpretation of what Jiraiya and the three Ame orphans went through during the years he cared for them. I wanted to do something about the day Jiraiya left his teammates to care for these foreign children. Please enjoy!**

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><p>Rain came down hard like blocks of ice on their backs, smashing against the ground and exploding at their feet. With every drop, an explosion sounded, matching the frantic beat throbbing in her chest.<p>

"This is ridiculous, Jiraiya-," through clenched teeth and masked worry, the blonde jounin kept her firm grasp on her tall teammate's sleeve. "We're at war with these people, they could kill you while you sleep."

"They're children, Tsunade-,"

"We've been attacked by younger!"

Her last words were louder than she expected and her voice carried over towards the three rain drenched children shivering a few feet away from her cell. The alabaster haired man caught in her grip turned his eyes towards hers, the gray orbs hard and serious as they looked down on her.

"I'll be okay, this is something I need to do," he began to pull away but Tsunade held firm.

"I want you to come home with me, Jiraiya. I need you-,"

"They need me more right now, and it won't be that long," Jiraiya pulled her tiny hand away with his large, scarred one. "Only until they can fend for themselves."

The finality in his voice rattled her bones as she took back her hand and stared doe-eyed at her teammate, upset and agitated.

"But I'm-!"

"Enough. You and Orochimaru head home without me and tell sensei I'll be back in a while," he started walking towards the three children huddled together with a kind softness on his face. "Don't worry about it, hime."

But as she watched him walk off in the heavy rain, pouring down on them like heavy stones, she couldn't help but feel a throb of impatience roll behind her eyes. She would worry, immensely, because he was more than her teammate, more than her friend. He was her pillar of warmth in the frost of the war torn lives they lived vicariously through one another, and just like the setting sun, her warmth left as he passed the thin line of the horizon. Yes, he would return. But only after the flutter in her stomach had left, never to know the man who helped make him.

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><p>"So, so, hey! Jiraiya-sensei! Did you really fight Hanzou with your teammates? Was he really strong? Is his salamander really big?" the buzz of the orange haired boy as he circled the Sannin's legs like an excited puppy, asking question after question with a glow on his face, was like the wash of waves against a rocky shore. Close to his body and clinging to his large hand, a small girl with dull blue hair kept herself out of the rain by hiding under Jiraiya's rain cloak, bright hazel eyes looking up at him as he told his tales of adventure and triumph in foreign lands.<p>

"Yes, his salamander summon was really that big – no, his hair was not green, it was blond – yeah, he nearly broke my leg off," the mirth in his voice was hard to hide as the orange haired boy continued to circle him with hungry curiosity brimming.

"And, and did he-, hey Nagato!" Yahiko's focus shifted suddenly towards the boy trailing behind them. "Keep up or you'll get left in the rain!"

Turning back, Jiraiya tried to focus his eyes through the pouring rain and find the little boy walking shortly behind their group, head low and shoulders slumped.

"Oi, Yahiko," in an instant, the hyper boy was at attention watching Jiraiya, waiting for him to speak. "What was his name?"

"Nagato. But don't worry about him, he's always been quiet."

A sudden nudge in his side gave Jiraiya a start as he looked down at the blue haired girl with a gift for origami.

"His dog died, so he's still sad because they were best friends," she said softly and lowered her big gold eyes back to the mud they traveled on.

Jiraiya returned his gaze to the shrouded boy walking a few feet behind him, almost like the Sannin's shadow. With a thoughtful glance, Jiraiya watched the boy walk with them, head down and deep red hair soaked with ice-cold rain. His skin was pale and he bet if he were to touch him, it would be cold like a corpse.

"Hey, Yahiko slow down. Let's wait for Nagato."

Jiraiya stopped, still keeping his cover over Konan and turning towards Nagato as he approached obliviously. When he did finally lift his head, his bangs stuck to his forehead and covered his eyes.

"Hey kiddo, keep up. There's a little shelter just up ahead and we can get out of the rain."

Mustering up a warm smile, Jiraiya outstretched his arm to the boy who skipped forward a bit, a sign of excitement in his face, and huddled under the older man's cloak to join his female counterpart.

With two children under his arms, Jiraiya tried his best not to trip over their feet as he walked, making sure to miss toes as well and not mistake their feet for rocks because they were so small compared to his.

So small and fragile and helpless.

A nauseating wave of reality hit him hard in the core of his head as he looked up at the gray clouds suffocating the sky. He had just undertaken the responsibility of three children, while he himself was still below the maturity of a teenager himself. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach as the small hand he held in his own suddenly felt so real and alive, and as if hearing his thoughts, Konan gave his big hand a squeeze.

"Can I decorate the walls? I like to paint too," she looked up at him again with a hopeful smile on her round face.

"Sure, just no pink. Us boys don't do well with pink."

He gave her a wink and her smile grew as she turned to Nagato on Jiraiya's other side.

"That means I could paint a picture of Chibi on your wall! Would you like that, Nagato?"

Jiraiya inwardly cringed while anticipating the boy's answer, knowing he was still hurting from the loss of his dog and not exactly prepared to deal with the tears that would come. But as Jiraiya waited, he didn't see tears or even a hiccup in his porcelain face, but the crack of a smile as he faced Konan.

"Yeah," he chirped. "I'd like that."

When night started to settle and all three children were rolled up in their covers, Jiraiya sat on the step of the hut and watched as the sky finally cleared to reveal a star-patterned black quilt blanketing the space above him.

His thoughts wafted more evenly as the dew of the night settled on the grass beneath his bare feet. He turned around and looked back in the house to where the three children lay, chests slowly rising up and down in even breaths. His shock had settled slightly after their first shared meal, and now that he watched them sleep peacefully, he felt a certain peace settle in himself as well.

It wasn't his stubborn will that made him feel calm, nor was it his thick head that made him feel fine, but a certain confidence that filled him as he watched his new devotions sleep. Their soft young faces brought about a certain surge of instincts deep inside him, and an urge to grow in order to help them do the same.

It was that night; Jiraiya thought years later while looking back, that he became more of a man: a father and a teacher. While waiting for the morning to embrace his new responsibility, his mind became acclimated to the atmosphere of caring for someone so vulnerable and dependent. And again, older now and wiser, Jiraiya would look back at the forms of the sleeping trio, and wonder if he had done them a disservice. He wonders, as he thinks back to the ruthless nature of his pale teammate, that if he'd just allowed him to end their young lives would their lives had been better off? That if, instead of taking their small hands and leading them to safety, he had listened to Tsunade and returned home with her, if it would have made a difference.

But it was much too late for silly contemplations like those. Jiraiya was much too old and much too tired to waste what time he had left wondering over hypotheticals that nobody would ever be able to answer.

In a smooth, mastered motion, Jiraiya rose from his place on the dew splattered grass and gazed up at the star stained sky. It was a sky so similar to the one he had gazed up at all those years ago. He wondered, if at the exact same moment, in some remote country hopefully not plagued by the depressing rain they were so used to, that his trio were looking up at the same sky along with him.

Were they still together? Were they all still alive and staying out of trouble? He guessed they weren't, that at least one of them had strayed away, settled down. But another thought crossed his weary mind: did the things he taught them still linger within to this day? He hoped, that those years he had given to them, spent his energy and life teaching them to protect themselves and teach them about the world, he prayed at least they kept those values in their hearts.

But, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, if nothing he did stuck, then why did he bother? Was Orochimaru right? Should he have ended their lives right there on the spot? It was considered mercy back then, something akin to humane, but then…

He dropped it in the grass as he left the field, memories balled tightly and left like a stone in a river. Jiraiya left the grassy knoll, heart heavy as he let the origami flower in his hand blow away in the wind, ridding him of what remained of his trio.

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><p><strong>Did anyone notice the subtle fangirl shipping near the beginning? I did...because it has to be my favorite pairing.<strong>

**Anyone who gets it will receive a prize!**


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